The Curious Grim Fates of Padfoot and the Chosen One
by messenger of home-baked pie
Summary: In a world in which Harry Potter was raised by his godfather, Sirius Black, he ends up a very different boy indeed. Prepared for the world of magic and adventure by Sirius, and raised to be remarkably similar to his father before him, Harry is ready to take Hogwarts by storm. But darkness looms ever on the horizon, and though some things are different, not all things are better...


**Hogwarts, 1998**

Harry Potter got to his feet, his ears ringing, blood in his mouth. His knees shook, threatened to give way beneath him. His glasses were perched crookedly on his nose, their lenses having smashed to pieces hours ago. He'd repair them later. If there was a later.

Lord Voldemort rose before him, a blurry figure from this distance. Harry could hear him pant, could feel the anger radiating from his mortal enemy.

"Neither can live while the other survives," Harry muttered to himself.

"You've run out of tricks, boy," called Voldemort, his voice cold and piercing. "You've run out of _time._"

Death Eaters trickled into the Great Hall. One by one, ten by ten, an endless flow of the masked figures filled the place Harry had spent six good years dining in with his friends. Ron, and Neville. Hermione and Ginny, if they'd ever stop fighting. And now the place was trashed.

"No parents," Voldemort called mockingly, pacing slowly around Harry. The Death Eaters laughed and jeered. Harry didn't let the red-eyed man out of his sight, following him with his wand. "No family. No kin. And we've long since dealt with your precious _friends._" Harry licked his lips. His throat was dry. "If I were a weaker man, I would want to feel sorry for you, boy!"

It wasn't over. There was always a way out. Always a solution. Harry hadn't been raised to give up without a fight.

"There's no one coming to save you. Don't you understand, Potter? Let me see the despair in your eyes. Let me see you weep. You're alone. You've always been alone. Tell me, who do you have left, Potter? Who else could there possibly be in this world for you?"

* * *

**Godric's Hollow, 1981**

Sirius Black raced away from the burning house, murder on his mind. _I have me orders from Dumbledore,_ Hagrid had said resolutely. _He's ter go ter his aunt an' uncle's._

He'd deal with that problem later. Right now, he had a certain _friend_ to catch up with, and he wouldn't need his flying motorbike for that.

He twisted mid-step, gave himself to time and space, felt the world around him contort and his body flex and buckle all in a split-second, and with a _crack_ he was in a dark flat. The air was stale, and the floor was messy. He couldn't see much, but he had been here enough times to know his way around. He didn't need to see, anyway. Even as a human, Sirius could smell a rat a mile away.

"You shouldn't have come here, Padfoot," a nasally voice came from another room.

Sirius whirled and slashed his wand, and the wall splintered and exploded, exposing the room. It was empty.

"Reveal yourself, you coward," he roared.

A shuddering breath. "I knew you'd come here. I knew the moment you saw the… the bodies-"

"I'll kill you!" Another slash of Sirius' wand, another wall came tumbling down. Another empty room. The smell of plaster and dust filled the air. "Come out, Peter!"

"You must have known I'd anticipate you. What made you so certain I'd return to my home?"

"In that house," said Sirius, snarling, "I saw our friends. Dead. I saw their child, crying. I saw a burning home. But, if it's true what they're saying, if Voldemort-"

"Don't-say-his-name," the voice hissed.

"If _Voldemort_," he said louder, "really is gone… then why didn't I see his wand in that house?"

There wasn't a response.

"You were there, weren't you? You saw their bodies, saw Harry, but you just grabbed your master's wand and fled. Didn't you?"

"I-"

"_Didn't you_?" Sirius' voice shook. His hand was holding his wand so tightly he thought the wood might splinter.

"I cried for them, Sirius."

"Don't you dare-"

"Truly, I did. I wept. But then Hagrid arrived."

"Before you could finish Harry off?"

"Before I could pay my respects."

Sirius laughed, the laugh of an insane person. "Your respects? Your _respects,_ Wormtail? You barely even deserve to pay them with your life!" He tore down another wall with his wand, making it crumble and rain to the ground, leaving just one more barrier of plaster between him and his prey. He looked at the final wall and raised his wand calmly. "Just barely, though."

The last wall shuddered and imploded, falling to the ground and exposing the last part of the flat.

Nothing. No sign of Peter Pettigrew. Just another empty room.

A click. The sound of the back door opening and closing. Another click, as it locked from the outside.

Sirius dashed to the window and dove right through, raining chunks of shattered glass upon himself as he landed outside. Cuts riddled his skin, but he took no notice. The figure of the plump boy retreated quickly down the driveway and onto the street of the suburban neighbourhood. Sirius gave chase, sprinting after him. He fired a spell and his quarry stumbled, looked back in panic.

Sirius would make him hurt. Would make him _suffer_.

"Come on, Wormtail!" He fired another spell, missed narrowly. "Let's see what you've got!"

Peter pointed his wand behind him and tried to aim while running. A white jet of light missed Sirius by a wide margin, and Sirius laughed.

"Is that it? You hang around Moony, Prongs, and I for ten years and you can't even fire a spell right?"

Peter stopped suddenly and turned. "Lily and James, Sirius! How could you!"

Sirius frowned. "What?"

Lights were turned on in some of the houses on either side of the boys, and frowning faces appeared at windows.

"I'll make you pay," Peter yelled. His hands were behind his back, moving quickly. "I've got you cornered now, Black!"

Sirius might just as easily have waited, curious to see what the boy would do. Arrogance coupled with doubt in his old friend's ability would have stayed his hand, but there was no way of knowing what could have been.

History would remember this moment as a simple one, and so it was. He raised his wand. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Peter stiffened and toppled, immobilized. A knife and wand clattered against the concrete. Some Muggles had left their homes and watched from their lawns with guarded curiosity. Some eyed the wand in Sirius' hand. He ignored them and grabbed Peter by the collar. The Statute of Secrecy was the least of his concerns. Turning on the spot, he disapparated.

With a _crack_, he was in his own home, the place he'd bought using the inheritance he'd gotten from his Uncle Alphard's passing. Before doing anything else, Sirius had to save his godson. He couldn't let James' child be given to those swines of human beings.

He dumped Peter on the floor and rummaged through a small box of old letters. He didn't know where Vernon and Petunia Dursley lived, though he was sure Lily had mentioned it in a letter at some point. Primly Drive? Private Place? Something like that. He had to find the letter.

The next day there were celebrations. Sirius heard on the Muggle radio network of swarms of owls being spotted, crowds of weirdly dressed folk, and random appearances of shooting stars. He dared not step outside. He could only imagine the rumors circulating, among people in the know, about what had transpired the previous night. There was only one man who could set things right, and Sirius knew just where he'd be able to find him. If he'd calculated the time it would take to travel by flying motorbike, Hagrid was due to arrive that night.

Peter was starting to wriggle about on the floor. The spell was wearing off, and he smelled like hell - he'd likely soiled himself. Sirius recast the body-bind curse, and watched with a small smile as the boy marinated in putrid.

Some short hours later, after confusedly strolling through various streets of Little Whinging, the body of Peter Pettigrew floating along behind him, Sirius reached Privet Drive. He recognized the three figures standing outside number four instantly. It helped that one of them was a half-giant dismounting from Sirius' motorbike.

"-house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin' around," said Hagrid. "He fell asleep as we was flyin' over Bristol board."

At Sirius' footsteps, the three looked up.

"Sirius," said Hagrid, looking surprised but pleased to see him.

The same could not be said for the other two. Minerva McGonagall's wand was up in a flash, and she pressed it into the base of Sirius' throat with narrowed eyes. "I ought to kill you where you stand."

"Minerva," said Albus Dumbledore quietly.

She took her wand an inch off his throat, but didn't lower it.

"Thank you," said Sirius, his voice still shaking. It hadn't stopped shaking since he'd seen the two bodies. The house on fire.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, Sirius Black," said Dumbledore. "I know you are not so stupid as to come here to kill the boy."

"I didn't betray James and Lily, Professor." His voice didn't shake when he said it. It was strong. "You must know that."

"Do you think us stupid, Black?" snapped McGonagall. "We are the ones who explained to you how the Fidelius Charm works!"

"We changed secret-keepers!" They had to believe him. "Without telling a soul, the four of us made the switch!"

McGonagall frowned. "Four?"

"James, Lily. Myself. And," he stepped aside, and the body floated forwards, stopping between them all, "the perfect, most unlikely accomplice. The one we could trust, we thought. The one no one would expect. Peter."

His old teachers' eyes widened. Hagrid looked bamboozled. Dumbledore looked back at Sirius intently, staring into his eyes as though searching for his soul.

"Read my mind," said Sirius. "Use Legilimency. I'm telling the truth."

"A skilled Occlumens can hide the truth," said McGongall, but her heart didn't seem to be in her words anymore. She was looking at Peter with disgust now.

"I believe you," said Dumbledore.

"_Thank_-"

McGonagall rushed forwards and wrapped him in a hug. "You poor thing," she whispered, her voice choked.

Sirius patted her back lightly. "I'm alright, Professor. I'll be alright."

She nodded and released him, removing her glasses to wipe the corners of her eyes as she stepped back. Hagrid was now sobbing loudly into a handkerchief. Sirius doubted he was keeping up with all this.

"Peter Pettigrew will spend the rest of his life in a cell," Dumbledore said. "I'll make sure the truth gets out, Sirius. You have my word."  
Sirius nodded his thanks, but didn't speak. His eyes were on Harry Potter, sleeping peacefully in his blanket.

Dumbledore gave Sirius a knowing smile. "You have something more to add?"

Sirius looked up. "I'm his godfather, Dumbledore. His legal guardian. Let me take him."

Dumbledore shook his head sadly. "I'm sorry, Sirius. He needs to be with his blood relatives."

"I am his blood relative," Sirius said fiercely. "James is my brother!"

Two crueller people might have corrected him. James _was_ his brother. But these two simply accepted what he said in stride. McGonagall, for her part, looked to be in full agreement with Sirius. Dumbledore was still looking at him sadly. "Of course," he said. "But I refer to blood in a very literal sense. For reasons too complex to explain right now, Harry will not be safer anywhere else in the world than in his aunt's house. I must ask you to trust me on this."

Sirius held his gaze for a few seconds, before casting his eyes down and nodding. "Alright, Professor. If you're sure."

"I am."

He nodded once more, looked at Peter. "May I leave this _thing_ with you?"

"You may."

With one last nod, Sirius turned and started walking away.

They were silent for a few moments. He counted to five. Made it only to three.

Sirius turned on his heel and sprinted back to them, to Harry, picked up his godson, and he sprinted off all in the span of a second and a half, Harry sleeping soundly in his arms. When he reached the end of Privet Drive, Sirius glanced back at the three figures. They hadn't moved at all. It seemed almost like none of them had the heart to stop him.

Apparating back home had been risky. Sirius didn't know if it was safe to apparate with a baby. In fact, he barely knew a thing about babies. Harry woke up with the _crack_ of apparition, but he didn't cry. Simply blinked up at Sirius blearily.

"Sorry about the smell," said Sirius, nodding to where Peter had lain on the floor. "I kept some trash there." Harry wrinkled his little nose. "Yeah, I know. I'll clean it."

He put Harry down on the table.

"You know, maybe one day, when you're older, I can take you to visit that piece of trash in his cell. We can kick him around a bit, have some fun. Would you like that?"

This child with messy black hair and bright green eyes gave him a lopsided grin, and Sirius knew he'd never felt a love like this in his life before. He smiled back at Harry. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

The Longbottoms and Remus Lupin came over the next day. They all had a lot of questions for Sirius, and understandably so. Remus in particular had a lot he wanted answered. Sirius could tell he was angry, but didn't begrudge him that. They all talked, and gradually Remus' anger evaporated, replaced by the same empty, broken feeling they all shared. The dark mood was brightened considerably by Harry and young Neville Longbottom playing around on the floor, laughing and snorting to each other in their own little unintelligible language.

After that day, Sirius would check in on Remus every now and then, just to make sure he was doing alright. He saw the Longbottoms quite often, too. In fact, about a week after they'd all chatted, he went on a mission with them, per Dumbledore's orders. On that mission the young couple were briefly tortured by the Lestrange brothers and some other Death Eaters, in a rather horrifying display, but Sirius intervened soon after it began. Those Death Eaters were arrested. Alice and Frank were a bit shaken up, but otherwise alright. They came round to his place with Neville every other week, and Sirius would always smile as Harry's face lit up.

Thus the years crept by, and with each one, Sirius reckoned he got better at raising the child. His neighbours would have words with him regularly about Harry running down the street with a big black dog, with no adult supervision. It was irresponsible, they said. Sirius would smirk and tell them to mind their own.

He found an expansive field in a rural area, no prying eyes for miles, and he would take Harry there as often as he could to teach him Quidditch.

"_I'll be damned if my son can't fly a broom," _James had told him one day, a few weeks after Harry had been born._ "I've tried putting him on mine, but Lily always freaks out and calls me an idiot."_

"Remember," Sirius said to Harry, squatting down to look at him as he mounted the small broom, "drive with your legs, turn with your hips-"

"_-and fly with your mind," James said, surveying the Gryffindor Quidditch team with a stern brow. Sirius watched him with a smirk, always finding his friend's raw passion for flying amusing. "It takes more than a thought. It's an instinct. Your broom has to be an extension of your own self. It turns when you turn. Feel it. And above all else," he said, smiling a little-_

"Don't fall off," said Harry, nodding. "I know, Sirius. Can I fly now?"

Sirius surveyed the boy, the small cocky grin on his face taking him back to many nights spent sneaking through corridors to raid the school kitchens, the excitement he would see just before hearing the words, "Padfoot, I've had a brilliant idea!"

"Oh, go on then," Sirius told Harry grudgingly, shaking his head and letting the nostalgia soak in.

Harry's face lit up, and without even taking a moment to right himself, he shot up into the air. Sirius' cry of surprise quickly turned into an ecstatic whoop, and he laughed as he watched Harry race through the sky, taking to flying so effortlessly, so naturally. Sirius cupped his hands around his mouth. "Go, go, Gryffindor! Go, go Gryffindor!"

Harry cheered from the sky and joined the chant. "Go, go, Gryffindor! Go, go, Gryf-"

"Eyes up," Sirius yelled sharply.

"Woah!" The boy pulled out of the nosedive, and when he righted himself he glanced at Sirius with a guilty expression. "That was on purpose."

It was by no means easy, Sirius had found over the years. Of course money was never a problem, but Sirius constantly worried that he wasn't doing a good enough job. He wanted to give Harry the best life possible, as close as he would have had with James and Lily.

For the most part, things went smoothly, and there were scarcely any issues. In fact, as far as Sirius could think, there had only ever been one. Harry was eight years old at the time, and while throwing a rare tantrum the boy had yelled, "You're not my real dad!"

It had been bound to happen eventually. Sirius had almost been expecting a line like that at some point, seeing it as inevitable, and found himself feeling more sympathetic for Harry than hurt or sad.

Calmly, he sat the boy down and looked at him.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Harry said, fidgeting and shamefaced. "I didn't mean it."

"Have I ever asked you to call me your dad?"

"No."

"No. Your dad was my best friend. The best man I ever knew. No one can replace him, that's not what I want to do. I'm Sirius, Harry. Your godfather, friend, _whatever_. And I only want you to call me Sirius." He nudged him playfully. "Padfoot works too."

Harry had grinned, hugged him, before Sirius sent him off to play. By making sure that Harry knew he could tell Sirius anything, absolutely _anything_, there were never any real problems.

"I was an illegal animagus at the age of fifteen," Sirius had told him one day. "There is very little you can do that I won't approve of."

On Harry's eleventh birthday, the boy was buzzing around the house, immensely excited that he was finally-

"I'm finally old enough to go to Hogwarts," he roared, running in and out of the dining room.

Sirius looked away from the afternoon paper and smirked at him "You've still got another month before term starts. You'll wear yourself out at this rate."

"I can't help it, Sirius. You've been telling me stories about this my whole life! I'm going to go to the Forbidden Forest, just like you and my dad!"

"Maybe don't do that in your first year," Sirius said frowning. "Some weird stuff goes on in that place."

"But you've already taught me how to duel people," Harry argued. "And Remus doesn't go to Hogwarts anymore, so there won't be any were-wolves in there."

"Yes, but there are dark creatures and-" he stopped himself, and snorted. "Who am I kidding? You're just like him. If I tell you not to go, you're definitely going to go."

"I'm going to battle dark creatures," Harry cheered, running into the kitchen.

"At least take Neville with you when you do, Harry. I haven't seen Frank and Alice here in a few weeks, and they're so funny when they're angry."

"Okay!"

Sirius watched him race back out of the room, and he sniggered to himself before looking back at the paper. _GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN _was the headline. He glanced over the article disinterestedly, before turning the page. From Harry's room, he heard a crash and the sound of something breaking.

"Harry," he called, "are you using your wand in there?"

There was a pause. "No," Harry called back.

Sirius snorted again, and turned to the next page. "I taught you to lie better than that, kid. What will McGonagall say when she finds out how bad you are at being sneaky? She'll think that I haven't raised you properly!"

* * *

**King's Cross Station, 1st September, 1991**

Harry looked around, taking in as much as he could, unable to lose the wide grin on his face. He pushed his trolley along, eyes brightening even further every time he saw someone else pushing their own trolley, their bustling families in tow.

"Remember," said Sirius, a hand on his shoulder, "the invisibility cloak is somewhere in Dumbledore's office. You _cannot_ be caught when you sneak in, got that?"

"Yep!"

"And where's the map?"

"It'll be in Filch's office," said Harry. "In one of his drawers."

"Good. To open it-"

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," Harry recited.

"And-"

"Mischief managed."

"Good," said Sirius, nodding. He looked like he was trying to wrack his brain for anything else to remind Harry of.

"Don't worry, Sirius," said Harry with a laugh. "I remember everything you've taught me."

"Are you sure?"

"I solemnly swear."

Sirius beamed at him, and patted his back. "I couldn't be more proud of you, Harry." They approached the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten, and Harry stopped. Sirius crouched beside him and looked at him. "And I know your parents would be immensely proud, too."

Harry smiled happily. "You reckon?"

"I solemnly swear it."

They both grinned.

Sirius jerked his head towards the barrier. "You want to go in by yourself, don't you?" Harry nodded, and Sirius' eyes twinkled. "I figured as much. Well, don't dawdle on my account. I won't be far behind you, don't worry. Just make sure you say bye before you get on the damn train!"

Harry nodded again, laughed. He looked at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, took a breath, and started walking.

His pace built up to a run, and his trolley rattled as its wheels turned far faster than they were built to. He thought of the castle, and the lake. He could picture them in his mind, despite having never seen them. He thought of Dumbledore and McGonagall, and what it would be like to finally meet them. Of his best friend Neville, and how much havoc he was sure they would wreak. Of his _other_ best friend, his mentor and guardian, Sirius, and how much he would miss him. Of his father, and his mother, and how much he had always missed them. He really hoped he would make them proud.

The barrier rushed up and Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the impact, and there was suddenly a sharp whistle and a throng people talking and laughing all around him. Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

Harry opened his eyes, and his adventure began in earnest.


End file.
